YOWTCH! YOWTCH! YOWTCH!

(re the illustration: is that a small chip off her tooth? And why is she breathing through her mouth? Allergies?)

Welp, I just got back from my third trip to the bathroom in forty-five minutes (no, not for that) during which I inspected my lips for evidence that they now belong to Angelina Jolie.

Yes, today I received my DuWop Lip Venom. As if I didn't already have enough excitement in my life. NOW I AM IN THE BIG LEAGUES. Well, let's say I'm sitting on one of the Big League benches.

This is going to change my life. I am going from a lipdeficient state to a lipoverage state.

I ripped open my Sephora package, wrested open the artfully -- and damn tightly -- sealed DuWop canister-o-Venom, whipped out the vial and slathered the liquid onto my lips.

YOWTCH! YOWTCH! YOWTCH! Nobody told me there would be stinging! That stuff hurts! YOWTCH! YOWTCH! YOWTCH!

I guess the way it works is, you plaster this cinnamony-burning stuff onto your mouth and your lips puff up out of self-defense.

Well, that was forty-five minutes ago. And ... well, I think I see a little more definition. Kind of. They look a little more ... there.

Ahem. I'm sure it just takes repeated application.

Today's fragrance: L'Orientaliste Santal eau de parfum. This is some sandalwood ... no sweetness; exceptionally dry. So dry, in fact, that it pushes past the Bandit drydown realm of tobacco and leather. Probably a bit too ... androgynous ... for me. In other words, I smell like I just left a tobaccoist. Where I smoked a very good cigar.